Facets of love
by Bloody Winged
Summary: Heero has a rather unusual problem and he decides to tell Duo about it. Not daring to hope for a future together he at least wants to finally be honest. Heero/Duo
1. I love you, heart and soul

_**Facets of love**_  
_**Part One: I love you, heart and soul**_  
_**Pairing:**_ Heero/Duo  
_**Word Count:**_ 2.491  
_**Warnings:**_ Angst, Heero's POV  
_**Summary:**_ Heero realizes that he won't be able to lie to Duo any longer and writes him a letter, explaining that while he loves him, there is something he needs to say.  
_**Author's Note:**_ Ok, how to describe why I wrote this… Heero's problem in this ff might seem very weird to some people, but I know that it exists at least with one real person. I'm not sure if it has a specific name, it just is. I chose to give it to Heero from all those characters I write because I can imagine him having a similar problem pretty well. Also, 'Facets of love' will be a mini-series of at _least_ three parts. Maybe there will be more, but right now there are only three planned. They will each stand independently though, so I'll post even though the others are not quite finished yet (right now it seems like I'll finish them soon, but my muse is a picky thing right now and I better make no promisies XD)  
Explanation for the title of this part beneath the fic ^___^

* * *

_**I love you, heart and soul**_

The first time I realized something was really wrong with me was as I started to realize how gorgeous you are.

And I don't mean your body, though that doesn't mean it's not attractive. Just looking at it objectively, you have one of the most handsome bodies I have ever had the privilege to see, but that wasn't why in my mind, I couldn't help but think about you as being gorgeous. It was your spirit, the way your eyes showed me a soul behind them that left me without breath. The way your heart made you act without dirtying your intentions with motives that were less than pure. It was… just _you_.

Back then we were still at war and thoughts that didn't have anything to do with fighting or how to win the war were not encouraged. Still, I couldn't help thinking about it. You had caught me in the blaze of your flame, leaving me behind like a moth longing to be burnt; teasing, but never catching.

True, the first time it actually was me who left, but that mostly was because I couldn't deal with what was going on inside me. After that, I got more used to it. And as I progressed, getting used to my feelings, you seemed to have caught on.

I still don't know if that was a good or a bad thing. See… as I first realized that I'm feeling more for you than for a simple comrade, I also realized that I would never be normal. Where I knew I should have dreamed of your touch, of being close to you, I dreamed of loving gazes and warm words.

At first I pretended that was because my feelings went beyond simple lust, that I didn't want you just for sex. I pretended that I was just trained too good to simply let my body control my needs.

It didn't take me long to realize what a piss poor excuse that was.

I might not have the best social skills, but I know what should be normal about our age. Having wet dreams was something that happened more often than not and the wish to have a warm body in ones bed should have been first on my mind, no matter what my training said.

The dreams were there, well enough. I couldn't stop them and more than once grew aggravated at myself for getting distracted. Masturbating was something I had gotten used to, but this was another thing entirely. However, I don't think anyone who falls in love with another dreams of them pleasuring themselves, or watching them getting pleasured by some invisible lover, instead of actually _touching_ them. I have been around enough boys our age as we attended different schools to know that the usual dream was to touch or fuck that-and-that girl or guy. No-one ever spoke of making love or being in love. It was just hormones running wild. And while I didn't think I could ever be so casual, the fact that I didn't want to make love to you worried me.

I pretended to ignore the dreams I would usually get, forcing myself to imagine making love to you. Sometimes, very rarely, it worked. I would be able to get worked up about it and climax, though it would never leave me as satisfied as my _natural_ dreams. Other times the image left me with a cold feeling in my stomach and any lust I might have felt left me before I even could get started.

That was during the time we had first started to flirt with each other. I didn't know we were doing it at first, but it was hard to be oblivious to it for long. All those winks you only gave me, all your efforts to be near me, all those time you went out of your way to touch me… there was no way to pretend you weren't doing it, and my heart swelled just thinking about it.

But beneath it all, though, my fear was still there. I _wanted_ you. I wanted to be near you, to be loved by you and to love you. I wanted to share my joy and my pain with you, to be there for you whenever you needed me. The only thing I _didn't_ want, was your touch.

I could tolerate it well enough. My training had left me with a certain aversion to touch, so I considered that this might just be a hang up I had. However, it was unavoidable to get touched whenever we went undercover in all those schools, and I had learned to deal with it. Teenagers touched each other, I learned that pretty fast. If it was only a slap on your back for something done well or simply a half-hug to greet each other, the usual behavior showed a lot of body contact. And while I didn't encourage it with anyone, you always had a way of just doing things. I could never be angry with you about it either. I could only ever be angry with me.

Once I had realized that my aversion went farther than just remains of my training that I didn't want, I had to think about what I really wanted. By then I knew that I loved you, in my own way. I wanted to be near you whenever possible. I didn't mind sitting close to you, as long as we didn't touch. Sometimes I even managed to imagine curling up together without flinching and feeling good about it, as long as we left our clothes on. I cherished those times.

It was once you initiated the next step of our relationship that I was torn. I knew that no matter how you felt, you wouldn't stay for long once you would realize all I wanted of you was your presence, your company. My feelings were still too new, too precious to handle losing you, so I decided to pretend… and to hope that maybe, I would just get used to it and maybe learn to even like it.

It was a dumb thing to do, even though it actually worked somewhat. The first kisses we shared were… awkward, though I told myself not to notice. Whenever my thoughts would question the fact I would pretend that we were both new to this and didn't have much practice. It would get better with time.

It _did_ get better. There actually were times I could enjoy the kisses. I was happy back then, thinking that maybe I would be able to overcome my aversion. So far it certainly looked this way. It was only that once you actually started _touching_ me that I realized that no, there was no way I would ever get used to _this_.

I hadn't known what I would feel once you would actually touch me. I knew I didn't want your touch in my dreams; that I always tried to not imagine your touch on my naked skin. I could tolerate it as long as I wore clothes, but skin on skin was just too much.

I can remember the first time it happened as if it had only been a few hours ago. I will _never_, in all my life, ever forget your expression as I recoiled, frightened by my own feelings of hate. Hate of your touch; hate for myself. You were confused, and rightly so. Up to then it had been good, we had just been kissing and tried to relax after another hard battle. It was only once your fingertips actually had found their way beneath my tank top that I flinched away.

Seeing the confusion on your face I knew I had to act fast, to do damage control before I wouldn't be able to any longer. I remember I told you that you caught me by surprise; that I wasn't used to anyone touching me. I remember the shock fading from your face, giving way to this warm, gentle smile you give me and which I crave. I felt lower than scum right then. I hated having to manipulate you, but I couldn't face the chance of you leaving me. Making you belief that I simply had to get used to everything because I was a virgin might be believable, but I still knew it was a lie.

We went slower from then on. We still kissed, but you had taken to just sitting close to me or wrapping your arms around me. This was something I learned to have no problem with most of the time, could even _enjoy_ at times. As long as the contact wasn't skin on skin, everything was still fine. Admittedly, there were still days I felt like I just wanted to recoil, that I felt violated in a way I can't describe, but as long as it was you and no-one else, I could force myself to like being close to another. The time following that period was the best in my mind, even though the war came to its worst.

Then the war was over, and there was no question in either of our minds that we would want to stay together. That was something I hadn't a problem with. I _knew_ I wanted to stay close to you, to live with you. It was only the other aspects I didn't like, feared even. But still, my desire to be near you won out and we took a small apartment together.

Back then I didn't think I would ever be able to tell you how relieved I was once we decided on taking separate bedrooms. I know that you spoke of it being the sensible option, seeing that we hadn't done more than kiss and cuddle at that point and that two guys living together just wouldn't get as much attention if they moved into a two-bedroom apartment instead of a one-bedroom, but I still couldn't help feeling relieved.

In the months that followed, my bedroom became my sanctuary. I hated myself for thinking it, but I still couldn't help it. Whenever everything became too much I was able to simply retract to my bedroom, not even needing to recite any kind of excuse.

I always wondered if you never asked yourself how it came that I ran away at the most inane of moments. You never said anything about it, however, and I relaxed. I felt like shit about having to do it, but still, it helped. I forced myself to endure more and more every day, to try to like all the things we did together. Now that the war was over and we had all the time in the world was a big plus, seeing that neither of us felt the need to rush anything. And seeing that you believed I was completely virginal kept you at a slow place. I was, but like I said before, that wasn't what made me want to shy away.

The next time you decided to try moving your hands under my shirt I was prepared. I had known that it would come again and had trained myself to not flinch away when it happened. So, once the time came, I was able to convincingly tell you that I felt good, that I liked your hands on my skin. I was even able to reciprocate, something I was incredible proud of.

I was still not feeling happy about everything, however. I loved living with you, doing things together or to just sit and listen to you talk. I loved being in the same room as you and to have all your attention. The only thing I still couldn't bring myself to like, was your touch.

It actually became better once I realized that while I didn't like to be touched, it was easier to overcome the want of getting away whenever _I_ touched _you_. My concentration would be focused on making you feel good, something I actually could take pleasure in. As long as I didn't focus on your hands on me at the same time, I could tolerate it. I would have preferred to find a way of making you feel good without the touching, but if that was the price I would have to pay to make you happy, I would pay it gladly.

Things progressed pretty fast after that. By then I had realized that no matter how much I would force myself, this wasn't going away. That my aversion to touch seemed to lie in my nature and not my training, and that if I wanted to stay with you, I had to get over it. So I learned to deal. And while I still hated it, I became good in hiding any want of getting away.

I know that you'll probably think now that I should have told you sooner. That I shouldn't have forced myself through this. But Duo, you have to realize that at that point, I believed that it was either going through with it or losing you. I couldn't deal with the idea of losing you. I loved you too much for that, so I took the harder route. It might not have been perfect, but just being able to stay with you was enough for me.

Lately, however, I realized that there was no way of us staying together as long as you don't know about this. I have good days, on which I even sometimes can enjoy the touching up the level of us having sex. But I also have bad days, when I feel my stomach turning just at the thought of your touch on me through my clothes. Most of the time it's something in the middle, being ok with some touch as long as it's not too much, but I also have both extremes. And I know that at least at one or two occasions, you realized something. I don't know how _much_ you realized, but I'm tired of lying to you. I know how much you hate lying, and I can't bring myself to do it any longer.

I love you Duo, but I can't be what you need. I want to stay with you, but I'll never be able to simply enjoy your touch; I'll always have to force myself most of the time to not recoil from it. I don't want it to be like this, but I can't change the facts.

This is why I wrote this letter to you. To explain to you what I cannot say in words. I'm not sure what will happen now, but I hope that you'll understand. I won't force myself on you and I'll understand if you want to go. My hope that you won't is still there though. Maybe I cannot be what you want, but you'll always be more than I ever imagined deserving.

Love,  
Heero

* * *

As an explanation for the title: 'I love you, heart and soul' was meant as an expression for his problem. I didn't want to be too obvious about it in the title; however, finding something fitting was a bit complicated. Usually, when one says they love you, it's 'Body, heart and soul'. In keeping the 'body' out of the expression, it was made clear without being obvious ^___^

So, that was part one ^__^ Part two is half-finished, so I hope I'll have it ready to post next week ^__^ It'll be out of Duo's POV and show how he finds, reads and reacts to Heero's letter.


	2. Potato Soup

_**Facets of love**_  
_**Part Two: Potato soup**_  
_**Rating:**_ T  
_**Pairing:**_ Heero/Duo  
_**Word Count:**_ 3.042  
_**Warnings:**_ Angst, Duo's POV  
_**Summary:**_ Duo finds, reads and reacts to Heero's letter from the first part.  
_**Author's Note:**_ This is the second part of the 'Facets of love' series ^__^

_**Potato soup**_

Coming home these days was always one of the highlights of my day. Ever since Heero and I had moved together I have learned to love this part of my day. Heero might not be known as the most affectionate lover ever, but he has an incredible sweet side. Maybe he doesn't initiate touch whenever possible, but he does so many small things that just let me know how much he loves me.

I had been worried as we had first started our relationship during the war. It was obvious to me that his training had left Heero with a certain problem to initiate touch and that it would be completely up to me to actually do something about it. I didn't mind it exactly, but I hurt for Heero. There always was some tension within him that just wouldn't leave. At first I thought it was because he didn't know what he wanted, that I was just some kind of experiment for him, but it didn't take me long to realize that Heero isn't that shallow.

While he had this problem to touch, there were thousand little other ways with which he let me know how he felt. No matter if it was a little note, hidden beyond layers of code, simply telling me how he felt while we were separated by missions, or if it was one of my favorite foods while we were on rations and had no way to actually get something better that he produced out of no-where. He went out of his way to do whatever he could to let me know how much he loved me, and there was no way for me to not be awed. Here I was, some old street rat that was simply starved for some attention, and he went above and beyond everything I could ever hope for. Really, I never stood a chance. If I hadn't loved him before I realized how thoughtful and attentive he is, I'm pretty sure I would have fallen then.

I have to be honest – I was ready to jump him after the first two or three times we had kissed. Boy, but that guy was a god! He might have been inexperienced and awkward about the whole touching issue, but that only made for an intense concentration. Whenever we were together, I was the focal point of all his attentions. He could make me beg for him with just one gaze. And all of this focus went into his kisses as well, trying to make them better every time. I was practically putty in his hands, not that he ever seemed to realize that.

At that point I realized that no matter what happened, I would never be able to be happy with anyone else.

That might sound conceited, but you have never been at the end of Heero's attention. The intensity that seeps through everything he does is addictive. Just thinking about losing him leaves me cold and fearful. I did everything I could think of to let him see how much I loved him in return, though I don't think I will ever be able to reciprocate in kind.

But back to why I love coming home. Heero and I both have different jobs and his leaves him with over one hour more free-time, which he usually uses to already have dinner ready when I come home. I never asked him to do it; he just took up the task upon himself. I actually think he enjoys doing it, though I'm not sure if it's simply the cooking he enjoys, or because he knows that he is doing me a favor. It's hard to tell with him. I have never met a guy who is so selfless and with such a driven want to make others happy – especially me.

Today I already knew he wouldn't be home in time – he called me during my lunch-break to tell me that his shift had gotten changed since they needed him in the evening shift today. That wasn't something that did transpire all that often, but neither was it the first time. Heero was working in a company for computer security and was easily the best programmer they had. If they expected any kind of problems during the early night-hours, they would ask him to come in later. We both didn't really like it whenever it happened, but we had learned to deal with it as long as it didn't happen too often. And it wouldn't – Heero had made that very clear to his superiors.

So, as I opened the door to our small apartment, I wasn't surprised to not smell any kind of delicious dinner sitting on the stove. The apartment seemed colder without Heero around, so after I shrugged out of my coat I put on one of my warmer sweaters. One of the ones I only dare to wear around our home, since it actually looked hilarious on me. It was three or four numbers too large and nearly coming down to the back of my knees. I didn't care. It was warm and snuggly and I loved wearing it. Heero didn't seem to mind me wearing it either. I actually think he likes it whenever I wear it. He probably sees it as a sign that I am ready to relax after another hard day at work, which is at least partly true. As for the other reason… I simply love not having to wear anything special for anyone and to still know that I was appreciated. Plus it is snuggly. Can't forget about that.

Walking into the kitchen I looked around for a few minutes, trying to think of something I could turn into dinner. I hated cooking just for myself, but I also knew that Heero wouldn't eat after coming home from the evening shift. He would have made himself something before going and taking a sandwich or something similar with him. He hated eating late and avoided it whenever he could.

At the end I simply decided on some leftovers from the day before. Heero had made one of his special potato soups. That maybe doesn't sound like anything special, but you have never eaten it when Heero makes it. I have never figured out what he puts in it, but it tastes lake heaven. And on a chilly day like today, I couldn't imagine much that would be better.

It was only after I had sat down on the couch in our living-room that I found the letter. Heero knows that I like to eat while watching TV whenever he is not around, so this was a logical place to leave it for me to find. Leaving me a note or something similar in the kitchen would cause me to forget about eating – it has happened before, so we know that out of experience – and anywhere else I tend to overlook things like that. However, there was no way for me not to see the letter lying on the top of our living-room table, seeing that my neat-freak of a lover insists on keeping the thing uncluttered and clean. There simply wasn't anything lying around on it to distract from it.

My curiosity piqued, I picked it up while putting the bowl with the warmed-up soup down. There was only my name on it, nothing else, which led me to believe that Heero probably had written the letter himself and hadn't just found it in the mail-box.

Smiling somewhat I opened it while absentmindedly putting a spoon full of soup in my mouth. Heero had the tendency to leave me little love-notes or something similar sweet whenever he couldn't be there for me in the evenings. It might make other people roll their eyes or gag at the gesture, but I loved it. I never had gotten all that much attention before meeting Heero. And as I had mentioned before, I loved being the focus of his attentions.

Pulling out the sheets of paper, I lifted a surprised eyebrow. His notes usually weren't quite _this_ long. Not that I was going to complain, but it wasn't exactly the norm. I decided to simply ignore that fact for now and started to read, interested in what it would say, the soup already half forgotten.

However, once I've had read the first few sentences, I knew this wasn't one of his usual notes. This was something different, something more disturbing. I frowned as I took in the words he wrote, realization dawning more and more on me. Some part of me wanted to deny the words, wanted to deny their truth. Heero and I had been living together for over three years now! There was no way I couldn't have noticed anything of this before! This had to be some kind of sick joke.

Only… Heero wouldn't make a joke about something like this. He just _wouldn't_. For a second the idea that everything I knew about Heero was wrong, was nothing but a very well-played act, tried to engulf my whole being, but then my mind caught up with me and gave me a mental smack for even thinking about something like that.

So… what else could it be? This was clearly Heero's handwriting, I would recognize it everywhere. No-one else had such a neat script that so finely balanced between elegance and practically. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose, I knew that. If I just left my feelings behind for a second and thought about it, I knew that deep within my soul. Heero had always tried to spare me hurt whenever he could. No, this wasn't just a simple ploy to shock me or to get back at one of my more practical jokes. But if this wasn't it, then that meant…

I shook my head, not really comprehending anything right then. It couldn't be. It just _couldn't_. Heero and I had made love on a fairly regular basis for _years_ now! Why would he have never said anything before?

For a few seconds I got angry. I don't know exactly at what, but the anger that cursed through me nearly caused me to rip up the letter and get rid of it before simply pretending that it had never existed. Only… I knew I wouldn't be able to run away from this for long, so I didn't. Once the anger left me, something more like resentment was left behind. I _hated_ getting lied to. I hated it with passion. Usually, just getting to know that someone had lied to me would move them on my 'is not to be completely trusted' list in my head. There were a lot of people on that list.

But… I couldn't put Heero there. I _knew_ that I could trust him. And once I started to really think about it, I could see why he had kept it a secret. Could see that no matter what he would have done, there really hadn't been an easy way for him to go about it. Back then when we first got together I had had a big freaking crush on Heero, sure, but he was right. Hearing about something like that probably would have freaked me out and make me think that it was only said to play mind games with me and to ultimately get rid of me. Since I can't handle loss – and I can't, I have no illusions there – I would have left him.

Putting myself in his position I could see the hopelessness for the first time. No matter what he would have done, one of us would have gotten hurt, maybe even we both. And even though some part of me thought that it was fucking convenient for him to leave me a letter to deal with this on my own, I knew him good enough to know that he was hurting right alongside me. He had ended the letter in a way that made it pretty clear that he didn't believe I would still be here once he got home and I ached for him. How long must it have taken him to work up the courage to even write this letter? I'm not sure I would have been able to go through with it.

He also had mentioned something about me noticing something wrong before, but I actually had to think about it for a few minutes before I even remembered. At the time I had been confused for a few minutes, that was true, but at the end I hadn't put more meaning behind his unusual behavior, thinking he had just had had a little more stress than usual at work. Looking back at it now I could hit myself for letting it slide just like that. He had been hurting and I haven't been there for him. Even if what he had needed was more space, I hadn't known and therefore haven't been able to give it to him. How could he even still love me after all that I had forced him to go through?

With that thought there was suddenly fear in me. What if I understood his letter wrong? Would he even come back home? I know that Heero is too intelligent to leave a simple suicide note behind, but what if there was a hidden meaning behind his words? I really didn't think that Heero was the kind of person to go through with a suicide, but right then the fear was very real. I didn't have any assurances that he would come back to me. After all, hadn't I thought just a few minutes before that if he had told me back then, I would have left him before he could leave me? What if that was exactly what he planned on doing? How could I know?

Feeling the fear trying to swallow my logic, I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I would do no-one a favor in hyperventilating right then and there. Maybe I really was thinking in the wrong direction here. For all I knew Heero would come home just as he usually would.

Still, I didn't know that for sure. And my stomach clenched just thinking about losing Heero.

At that thought I realized for the first time since discovering the letter what staying together would mean for us. If all what he had written was true – and I really had no reason to doubt his words – then everything would change. I was going to lose some of the things I loved doing with Heero, no matter what would happen. However, the thought of not having regular sex anymore was hardly enough to make me stop loving Heero. As I had said before, there was a lot more to him than just the physical aspect. True, I had always fully enjoyed the sex whenever it happened, but I didn't think I would be able to do that now anyway. Just knowing that my lover would have to force himself to not recoil from my touch was making me feel guilty of having enjoyed it in the past. There was no way I would be able to let go now. It would feel too close to raping him.

Instead of thinking about the bad things that happened, I forced myself to think about the positive things. I realized now why Heero always had preferred for us to cuddle with our clothes on and why he loved my oversized sweaters on me. It never had bothered me before and I'm happy to know that I wouldn't lose that too. As long as I could have that and a few occasional kisses I think I could be content. We would have to work out a way of how we would deal with any pent-up desires, but that shouldn't be a problem in the long-run. Not being able to have sex anymore didn't mean we would have to stop doing _everything_. We would just have to figure out what Heero was comfortable with.

I was relieved to find that this all really didn't bother me. My only fear that I still had was that Heero wouldn't come home at the end of his shift. And somehow, something within me told me that he would. He had never been a coward and I think I know him good enough to know that he will come home. And if it was just to see how everything had turned out. The same as I was pretty sure that if I had actually gone through with tossing the letter, he would have continued to hide his problems, taking my ignoring the issue as denial and respecting my wishes. He really would do everything for me.

And that was what probably made me have no problem with it at all. He had tried. He had tried so hard until he actually hurt himself, if not physically then mentally. He gave it his all to be everything I ever wished for and had – at least in his opinion – failed. I don't think I could ever see everything he had done to me to date as failure. He had made me feel loved, cherished and well-protected, without making me feel weak. He had forced himself through his inability to show me how much he loved me with his body until he was able to, no matter what it cost him. Even if we would never have sex again, if there was one thing I knew for sure it was that his love for me was real. And that his love was all I needed.

Deciding that this was exactly what I was going to tell him once he would come home, I settled back into the couch and prepared for a long wait, shutting down the television that I had ignored up to now and eating the rest of the soup made by the man I loved.

And for the first time I realized that there wasn't any special ingredient in there. The one thing that made it so special, the one thing I had always wondered about, was the love for me he put in there whenever he cooked for me.

___________________________________________________________________

And here we go again ^___^ I don't think the title needs any explanations this time, but just in case: The whole chapter was done for the realization that love is more than just sex (obviously). While Duo had realized before that he loved Heero, it is important in this chapter that he realizes how much Heero does for him and that Heero's love for him shows through everything he does.


End file.
